Final Fantasy XIII 1. I

**WALLFLOWER  
**

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******Pairing:** Hope/Lightning

**Summary: **AU; After living in Palumpolum for his entire life, Hope is forced to re-familiarize himself with high school life after moving to Bodhum without warning just before starting his junior year. Between not wanting to be a loner and wanting to blend in enough to avoid being bullied all over again, he struggles to find equilibrium while juggling his classes and taking on the role of photographer for the yearbook. He thinks he can handle it until a certain pink-haired senior becomes the ultimate distraction.

**A/N:** i'm taking a chance at writing hope/light because they're my only concrete ship (aside from snow/serah). the places i describe (mostly in and around the school) are based heavily on places i've actually a been so i tried to make them seem as easy to imagine as possible. anywho~ before i start talking too much, here's the first chapter. hopefully it won't be the only chapter, orz.

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**I**

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What do you when the only life you've ever know is suddenly swept away by a torrential cataclysm in the form of a decision made without your input? How do you deal with a change so big and so abrupt it leaves you feeling like your entire mind has been wiped clean like a white board? I couldn't even answer my own questions.**  
**

My mother had decided it was a good idea for us to move in the middle of my high school career (just before my junior year). I would have the pleasure of having to get myself adjusted to a whole new environment on top of trying to get acquainted with other kids my age. I know it sounds easy, but I'm almost seventeen. Kids my age are mean.

I never really had any friends to begin with thanks to my inability to socialize. The thought of trying to start all over again made me nauseous. Let's just say I've always been on the receiving end of crude jokes (mainly about my height and rather slight physique). I've filled out a bit since then, but I can't help but always feel self-conscious. My hair colour also got me a lot of attention while I was growing up, but as I went through my first three years of high school I seemed to become invisible to my peers (which I was sort of thankful for, I guess).

But still, I was in no way ready for this.

I sat in the front seat of my mother's car, staring out the windshield pointedly as she drove around the foreign streets. Well, the place wasn't completely foreign, since we've visited before, but that didn't change the situation or the uneasiness that came with it. I would've deemed us lost if it weren't for the GPS system periodically giving my mother directions in that annoying computerized voice.

With each passing minute, I became more apprehensive—there were a few times when I thought I was going to have a panic attack right there in the car. Starting new had always been extremely hard for me, and it would probably be ten times harder this time around. It's my senior year; everyone my age is probably already neatly segregated into their social groups. I wasn't about to try and force myself into any cliques. My mother had taken it upon herself to remind me-more like attempt to drill into my head-that I'm "a great person and anyone who can't see it as at a loss". Whatever loss that may be, I can't even tell you.

The car slowed as she pulled into a parking space in the visitor's lot. This place was huge compared to my old school, which inevitably meant more students. How wonderful. We both sat there silently for a while. I could tell my mother had no idea what to do with herself now; I'd insisted that she didn't need to come inside with me. I was sure I could handle getting myself adjusted. Besides, I'm going to be seventeen soon; I need to learn to stop depending on her so much. I'd be damned if I got called a momma's boy before graduation.

My mom turned to me finally; I was kind of wondering when she'd say something.

"Are you ready?" she asked in that gentle tone she used when she was trying to comfort me. I appreciated it at a time like this. I guess I was looking uneasy despite my best efforts to hide it. I heaved a small sigh before reaching into the back seat for my backpack.

"I guess so," I breathed out, blinking up at the large school building again. Did I mention that it's bigger than my old school? If they could move, this place could step on my old school. "I can't put it off forever." Though I wouldn't have minded if I could, really. I glanced at my mother and gave her a gentle smile, which she returned. She grabbed me in a nearly-suffocating hug and kissed my cheek before letting me get out of the car. She stayed until I disappeared inside.

Ascending the steps to the school made my anxiety spike. My palms were getting sweaty and I had to wipe them on my jeans about three times before I even made it to the door. I finally got there, after turning to give my mom a final wave and watch her start pulling out of the parking lot.

To say the least, the inside of this place was way bigger than it looked on the outside. I knew most places were like that, but I couldn't really hold back my astonishment. The halls were wide and vacant, and the fluorescent lighting glared off the polished floors so hard I thought I might go blind. Classes must have been in session because everywhere I went, the halls were completely empty.

When I finally found the administration office, I was greeted by the secretary—a blonde woman with glasses. Her name plate read _Ms. Jihl Nabaat_. She smiled at me, welcomed me to the school (after pointing out that she's "never seen anyone with my hair colour around before" and thought it was pretty, which made me blush involuntarily), and told me to sit in one of the chairs near her desk after concluding that I was indeed the new student they were expecting, and that the principal would be with me shortly to get me all settled in.

To tell you the truth, I was nervous without my mom there. Usually I just sat around while she answered any and all questions regarding myself and anything that needed to be known about me. I swear she had my entire medical history memorized to the most minute detail. I didn't even know my own health card number. It always seemed really unfortunate to have her go everywhere with me, but now that she wasn't here, I could feel my anxiety again.

Everything was louder than it seemed. Ms. Nabaat's rhythmic typing on her keyboard, the mantra of ink being lasered onto paper from the photocopier in the far corner, the gentle hum of the air conditioning that kept the room comfortably cool. I wiped my palms on my pants, grimacing at the small wet spots darkening the material. My throat felt like it was closing up and I tugged at the kerchief around my neck. I was about thirty seconds away from fidgeting uncontrollably and eventually lapsing into a full-blown panic attack. It started with my mother not being here, but then my mind wandered elsewhere, getting caught somewhere between "what if no one likes me" and "I don't think I'm going to survive my first day".

I snapped out of my pessimistic thoughts when I heard my name being called—well, "Mr. Estheim", anyway. My father wasn't here, and I'm sure no one else in the room shared the same last name as me. Ms. Nabaat stood before me.

"The principal is ready for you, Mr. Estheim," she said in a gentle tone, looking down at me through her thin frames. Her smile was friendly. I returned it with a small smile of my own before following her out of her office—and making note of how nicely her pencil-shaped skirt hugged her hips; trust me, if you saw, you wouldn't blame me—and down the hall to the principal's office.

I was immediately greeted by who I guessed was the principal—a heavy-set man whose voice was way too loud for anyone's good. I had to resist the urge to cover my ears for most of our encounter. He sat me in a chair opposite himself on the other side of his desk while he got comfortable in his large chair that blocked the light from the window behind him. I immediately felt like I was in one of those cliché principal's office scenes you see so much in teen dramas on TV.

I read his name plate. _Principal Amodar_. No first initial or anything.

Although he was friendly, the he was very concise, setting straight to getting me registered. I filled out the forms to the best of my ability, leaving out the stuff only my mother knew—like immunization dates and other health-related junk. I slid the half-filled papers back across his desk and watched him look them over, expecting to have them returned to me, but all he said was that he'd get Ms. Nabaat to fill out the rest of my information when it came in from my other school. Part of me wanted to say, "Good luck with that", but I wasn't so sure I wanted to start my first day with a snarky comment. There'd be plenty of time for that.

After everything was said and done and Principal Amodar wished me good luck on my "endeavours into a new environment", I was handed off to one of the guidance councilors. I was kind of surprised that they needed more than one. Then again, judging by the size of this place, maybe I wasn't.

I was seated across from an older-looking black man with his face held in his palm and his elbow propped on his desk. He stared me down like he was studying me and I couldn't help how on-edge that put me. He picked up a folder that I caught a quick glimpse of—it was my record, the words "PALUMPOLUM COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE" printed neatly on the tab. Until recently, I thought permanent records and stuff like that were myths. Another part of me knew there were records of some kind, but figured they were archived in a database of some sort. My school in Palumpolum was always sort of backwards anyway.

"Hope, is it?" he asked in a gruff voice. I nodded mutely, suddenly too nervous to find my voice. This is why I said I was bad at socializing; I lost my voice in meetings with guidance councilors for Etro's sake. He looked back down at the papers in his hand before typing in a few things on his computer. I took this time to glance around his office as a way to curb my anxiety before I really did actually have a panic attack. The space was pretty plain-looking; a few frames on the wall housing the pieces of paper that basically said "I'm qualified to for this job and you're not". The small window in the corner was shut and locked but the blinds were pulled up half-way. His darkwood sectional desk took up most of the space as well as a bookcase on the opposite wall, filled to the brim with what I assumed were other kids' files and other typical guidance councilor paperwork. My eyes landed on a framed photo on his desk; a little black boy in overalls sporting a wide, megawatt smile stretched on his face looked back at me.

I shifted in my seat.

"Sorry about that," he said after turning away from his computer and setting my file down. "I needed to input your previous grades into the system and all that administrative stuff." He cracked a smile and I felt a little more at ease. He looked back at the screen, then back to me again.

"You seem to have a knack for mechanics," he commented. I nodded. Ever since I was little I was mechanically-inclined. Even things like electronics were easy to me. My mom would always tell me it was nice to have her own personal repair man around the house since my dad was fairly useless when it came to that sort of stuff. I had dreamed of becoming an inventor and a lot of my teachers told me I had the potential to since I was good with my hands and had a creative mind. "You looking into engineering?"

"Something like that, I guess," I answered half-heartedly. He gave me a bit of a skeptical look, and I couldn't blame him. Most kids in their junior year of high school knew what they wanted to do with their lives by now. Then there was me. But at the same time, I couldn't say that I was going to become an inventor. It was an open-ended dream, and universities didn't offer degrees in invention. "Let's just say I'm undeclared at this point," I said, shifting in my seat again. The man nodded again before asking me what sort of things interested me, all while typing stuff into his computer.

By the end of my session (for lack of a better word) with Sazh (he insisted that I call him by his first name instead of "Mr. Katzroy" because I seemed like an okay kid), I left the office with my class schedule in hand. Giving it a quick glance, I noticed that this school wasn't semestered like my school in Palumpolum; instead they went by an alternating day one-day two system.

Everything on it was pretty much expected. Autoshop and Woodshop were a given, as well as calculus, computer science, and (believe it or not) art class. English and chemistry didn't phase me either, but I really wasn't expecting to see a physical education class on there. While Sazh was sizing me up he probably noticed my diminished physique and figured a gym class would get me in shape. I frowned. Athletics weren't really my forte, despite being enamoured with boomerangs (not that you really need to have any sort of physique, just sharp hand-eye coordination). I wasn't out of shape. I just wasn't buff. Damn girly figure.

Glancing at a clock hung up in the hall, I looked back at my schedule to see which block I was supposed to be in. 9:38AM. First block would be ending at ten, and today was Day 1. I had art class first thing in the morning.

Checking the door numbers as I walked, I stopped when they finally matched up with the number on my schedule. Did I mention that this place was huge? I needed to remember to thank Sazh for the map he just so happened to slip me when he handed over my schedule. I definitely would have gotten lost if I were on my own. My nervousness had a tendency to mess around with my respiratory functions, my depth perception, and evidently my sense of direction. I took a breath before opening the door.

I was immediately met with the smells of an art room; oil paint, construction paper, and other materials were littered on just about every visible surface and everyone was busy working. It was only the first week and already people were so into it. I loved classes like this, where people were passionate about their work. That's part of the reason I liked mechanics so much (but maybe dedicated would be a more suited word in that case).

My attention was caught when a dark-haired woman approached me. I wasn't sure if my face heated up or not, but it wasn't very often that I encountered teachers who showed off so much skin; her blue sari left very little to the imagination.

...Damned teenage hormones.

She propped a hand on her hip and looked down at me, her bright green eyes questioning before she seemed to make a realization.

"New student, huh?" she asked. Her accent surprised me—in a good way, of course. "You must be the one Sazh called about." She reached for my schedule and plucked it out of my hand easily, looking it over before returning it. "Welcome to my art class, Hope." The way she pronounced my name sounded really neat.

"Thanks," I said, offering a small smile. She nodded and gave me a small half-smile (more of a smirk, really) in return before making her way around the tables near the front of the room. Luckily she wasn't the type to stop the entire class just to introduce newcomers; that in itself might have embarrassed me to death. My death certificate would literally say "death by embarrassment".

I followed her as she led me to an empty art table near the back of the room, next to a blonde kid with goggles on his head. On his right was a brunette girl and across from her, a blue-haired boy. I guess I wasn't the only one with odd-coloured hair. Thank Etro. I got curious glances as I climbed onto my stool and sat, trying to play off my uneasiness with a (rather awkward) smile. I could tell it didn't work.

"Take care of 'im, yeah?" was all that came out of the teacher's mouth before she walked away, glancing over a few people's shoulders as she went back to the front of the room. I guess that by "take care" she meant "talk to him so he doesn't feel like a loner on his first day". I wanted to groan.

"Fang's pretty short and to-the-point, huh?" the brunette girl said, looking directly at me, leaning over her work to see past the blonde boy between us. She must've clued in on my slightly confused face. At least I felt slightly confused. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Who?" I asked dumbly. The girl nodded towards the front of the room.

"Fang," she repeated. "Our teacher." Oh. Well that made a little sense. "She was never really one to do in-depth introductions."

"Yeah, all she said on our first day back in freshman year was 'welcome to art class, get started'," the bluenette boy said with a small smile. I let out a little laugh of my own before glancing back up where Fang had taken residence behind her desk, her eyes downcast at something. I looked back to the three beside me.

"I'm Lebreau," the girl said, giving me a friendly smile. "This is Maqui, and that's Yuj." She gestured to the blonde and azure-haired boys respectively.

"Hope," I said, smiling a bit wider.

"Where're you from?" she asked, glancing back down at her work. I blinked between the three of them. Did I really look that foreign?

"Palumpolum," I answered. I felt like one of those people who use one-word answers to try and end conversations as quickly as possible.

"Never been there," she said with a slightly dejected shrug. "Welcome to Bodhum, though." I nodded a bit.

"I've been here before," I said, only to realize that I might have sounded rude. "Only to visit and see the fireworks, though." Nice save. Lebreau leaned to look at me again, the look on her face somewhere between surprised and disappointed.

"Really?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, I guess you've already seen all the exciting stuff around here." There was a small silence as Lebreau focused on her work again. I suddenly felt kind of awkward just sitting around and doing nothing.

"Uh, what are you working on?" I asked, rubbing the back of my hair. The blonde boy, Maqui, finally looked up from his drawing. He gave me an incredulous look.

"What do you mean?" he asked. I wasn't sure I could make my question any more simple to understand. "There are no assignments, if that's what you mean." I rose an eyebrow.

"Fang's class is pretty much a free-for-all," Yuj said, twirling a coloured pencil between his thumb and forefinger. "As long as you produce something by the end of the semester, you're pretty much guaranteed to pass. Just remember to update your portfolio so you can hand it in when the semester's over."

"You can do whatever you want," Maqui said. "Use any medium, it can be any size, and the subject matter is left up to your discretion. Fang's probably seen everything imaginable." I rose my eyebrows again. I'd always had art teachers who tried to tell me how to draw certain things a certain way and left very little room for creative control. I hated it. But after hearing about Fang's methods, I felt very positive about being in an art class again. My lips pulled down at the corners in one of those that's-really-interesting-but-not-so-interesting-that-you're-grossly-enraptured kind of expressions.

...I know what I'm talking about.

Lebreau hopped off her stool and caught my attention, beckoning for me to follow her as she made to disappear into a back room. I did as I was told and shuffled into the small space.

The room was almost unbearably crowded. All sorts of different paper products—white paper, construction paper, tissue paper, Bristol board; you name it—was piled neatly along the counter. Boxes were filled with sketchbooks of different sizes, thicknesses, and quality of paper and placed in front of the lower cupboard doors. The higher cupboards on the wall opposite the door were door-less, revealing rows of bottles of acrylic, water colour, and oil-based paints. The other cupboards (also missing their doors) had stacks of coloured pencils, pastels, chalk, charcol, sketching pencils, paintbrushes and sponges, and even a few packages of that modeling clay you used in grade school. A spare table sat in the middle of the room, pushed up against the small window that faced the back of the building. All in all, it was a visual artist's sanctuary.

"What's your medium?" she asked, turning back to me. I shrugged a little.

"Usually just pencil," I answered. I felt boring and it felt like using pencil would be a waste with all the other materials lying around. Lebreau smiled at me before turning away. I glanced at her briefly and had to wonder what the dress code at this place was like. Between her and Fang, I was guessing it was nearly non-existent. If girls in Palumpolum dressed like Lebreau, they'd be sent home to change immediately. But aside from that, I think I was a little worried that this was my third time noticing (more like analyzing) what a female was wearing since I got here a little less than an hour ago.

Way to go Hope, you're a horny teenage male. Would you like a medal?

I was distracted by the butterfly tattoo on her right shoulder blade before I heard her speak again.

"Traditional," Lebreau said with a grin before grabbing a foot stool to reach the top shelf of one of the cupboards. She came back down with several boxes in her hand, giving them to me one at a time. A set of art pencils ranging from 9H to 9B, two boxes of coloured pencils, one in bright colours and the other in pastel colours, and a pack of erasers—all of which were extremely good quality. I may be a mechanics kind of guy, but I knew my art supplies. She then turned and grabbed a small packet of tissues and held them out to me.

"What are those for?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Shading and smudging," she replied nonchalantly. "Unless you just use your fingers..." I said nothing. "Wow, you really are a traditional one." Her little laugh at the end of her words made my face head up a bit (though I'm not sure if it's because I was genuinely embarrassed, or if it was because of the barely-there bounce of her breasts). Thankfully she didn't notice.

She gestured around the room vaguely before reaching to take the supplies she'd given me out of my hands again.

"The larger sized paper is in the bottom cupboards as well as the canvases if you decide you want to work on something large-scale," she explained. "There are plenty of sketchbooks in different sizes as well as any other stuff you think you might need or want to try. Fang lets us take whatever we want so knock yourself out. Just remember to grab a portfolio folder before you leave, and turn the light off when you're finished." I nodded to her and watched her head back out into the main room and set my things on my table.

Turning around again, I smiled to myself. If I didn't have my heart set on something else already, I'd probably look into art as a profession. I looked through boxes and cupboards, skipping over any paint I found that wasn't on the shelves. I am certainly not a painter. I toyed with the thought of trying pastels or charcoal, but decided that they were too messy. Yet, I wanted to be some rendition of a grease monkey. I made no sense to myself sometimes.

I settled for an eight and a half-by-eleven sketchbook and a slightly larger eleven-by-fourteen sketchbook as my canvases for the semester, as well as a smaller five and a half-by-eight sketchbook more for leisure and invention ideas that might come to mind. I grabbed a double-pack of pencil sharpeners and a portfolio folder like Lebreau said before leaving the room, making sure to turn the light off. By the time I'd finished, first block had come to an end and everyone was frantically packing up their stuff. Lebreau turned to me.

"I left your stuff on your table," she said, smiling softly. "Since you draw, you can carry all of your stuff with you unless you don't like to." I shook my head and started packing my new supplies into my backpack. I had trust issues when it came to leaving my stuff places; I didn't even like leaving my bag in my locker. Which reminded me—I needed a locker.

Lebreau, Maqui, and Yuj left the room before I did, giving me small smiles and waves as they went. I gave them a small wave of my own before finishing up and slinging my bag over my shoulder. Fang waved at me as I exited the room.

The rest of the day had been less than disastrous by my own standards. At lunch hour, I'd met a girl (with pink hair, at that; I think I'll fit in fine here) and her friend—she'd told me I look like the artistic type and asked me to meet up with them at the end of the week for some reason. I don't think I was really in a position to turn her down, especially since I wanted to make friends. It wasn't every day that someone actually approached me so I agreed.

Later on in the afternoon, I learned two things. One, Maqui was in my Autoshop class; and two, my calculus teacher had it out for me. I don't know what I did to make him narrow his eyes at me like that (though it might have had something to do with my nerves getting the better of me, my sweaty palms giving me butterfingers and disrupting the class a lot by dropping things), but I could tell it would be happening a lot this semester.

Overall, though, the first day was a success. I didn't die, and I'd met people. To say the least, my mother was elated in that overbearing motherly way when she heard I didn't hate the place. I'm sure you know what I mean. The kind of "elated" where they ask you to talk about your day in excruciatingly in-depth detail, down to what the bathrooms were like. _It's a bathroom, mom_ was all I answered with. I made sure that we skipped over the "have you seen any girls that you like?" topic entirely. That is not appropriate dinner time conversation. My father had asked me what my classes were like so far. I shrugged and told him they were fine before explaining the day one-day two thing. I'd have a better idea of how I liked the rest of my classes by the end of the day tomorrow.

My mother and I cleaned up the kitchen in companionable silence, her gentle humming being the only other source of sound other than the clinking dishes and running water.

I spent the rest of the evening in my room, going through the new items in my bag and working on the calculus homework that was due at the end of the week. Between solving for X and christening my new sketchbooks with a few random doodles to break in the art pencils, I felt generally at ease.

I went to bed that night with high expectations for my second day, and the rest of the week.

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**A/N:** it's been a really long time since i've posted anything here. so long in fact, that i had to make a new account because i forgot my old one LOL. i figured i've got all these ideas floating around in my head, it'd be a shame to let my fear on concrit make them all go to waste. i don't remember how i came up with the idea for this story, but hopefully i don't stray from it because it's rare that i even finish a story once i've started it. SO I SHALL TRY TO COMPLETE EVERYTHING I POST. starting with this. recently, about a month ago, i finally decided to read up on and watch things from ffxiii since i don't have ps3 to play it myself yet (i've always been infatuated with lightning's face, i was just lazy orz). when i'm obsessed with things, i like to write about them and i took an immediate liking to hope so alkdnhsk.

so yes, read and review, huhu.


	2. II

**WALLFLOWER  
**

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******Pairing:** Hope/Lightning

**Summary: **AU; After living in Palumpolum for his entire life, Hope is forced to re-familiarize himself with high school life after moving to Bodhum without warning just before starting his junior year. Between not wanting to be a loner and wanting to blend in enough to avoid being bullied all over again, he struggles to find equilibrium while juggling his classes and taking on the role of photographer for the yearbook. He thinks he can handle it until a certain pink-haired senior becomes the ultimate distraction.**  
**

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**II**

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It was a long week. It was still early in the year, but assignments were already beginning to pile on. Between school and trying to keep my inventive mind active, I was starting to see the beginning of a heavy workload. But since it was only the first week, I decided I wasn't going to think about it too much.

My name is Hope Estheim and I'm a procrastinator.

Anyway.

By the time the end of the week came around, I was already pretty well acquainted with the people I'd met so far. Lebreau, Maqui, Yuj, and I all really got along well and talked a lot during art class. I learned a lot about each of them through more than just observation (which would have been my original plan if it weren't for Fang thrusting me into socializing upon arrival).

Lebreau told me about the cafe she runs after school and on weekends to help her save up money to go to college once she graduates. She never mentioned what she wanted to go to college for, so I deemed her undeclared like myself. She told me I should go by one day, even going as far as trying to bribe me with free drinks because we've become friends. I don't really drink, but since it was generally the hang out spot for students, I agreed to check it out sometime in the near future. I'd probably have to run it by my mother though, unfortunately.

I could already hear Maqui and Yuj making momma's boy jokes.

Aside from Maqui's obvious mechanical inclination similar to my own, he told me of his plans to open up a garage, hence why he'd taken an Autoshop class every year since freshman year. He said repairing people's vehicles would probably earn him more income than creating something entirely new would (which was partly the reason why I didn't straight-out tell Sazh I wanted to be an inventor). He's the type who likes to help people, so I could understand his desire to be a mechanic rather than having an open-ended job like inventing something to gain fame. Not to say that was my reason for wanting to be an inventor... I envied him in all honesty. He and I were so similar, yet he already knew what he wanted to do later on in life. I wasn't even sure what I wanted to do after graduation. I wasn't even sure what I wanted for dinner that night.

Yuj is actually a little more eccentric than he led on. Lebreau told me that he's literally obsessed with fashion, though I could've guessed with the way we had to chase him down while he was tailing someone, trying to ask them where they bought their jeans. He and I are a lot alike too, mostly in the sense that we've both gotten made fun of a lot during our high school careers. Me, for being completely void of any physical capacity even with the recent effects of my growth spurt (I'm now sitting comfortably at five-foot-seven as opposed to my initial five-foot-nothing during freshman year). Him, for being interested in something that was stereotypically a "girl thing" and being good at it.

All in all, they're a group of interesting people, and I'm glad to be included. But at the same time, I couldn't shake this weird feeling like I was dull in comparison. My mom had always told me not to compare myself to others, but wasn't that the basis of society? When you go for a job interview, you're compared to other people. When you try out for school sports teams, you're skills are compared to everyone else. Parents compare their children to one another all the time, but I'm an only child so that example is invalid. So why was I not supposed to compare myself to other people when that's all other people ever did to me? Does that make sense? Am I thinking too much?

Oh well.

I had met a few other people too.

First, there's this girl in my art class named Yeul. She's soft-spoken, a little shy, and has an almost ethereal beauty to her thanks to her long indigo hair, translucent skin, and piercing green eyes that practically stare into your soul. People find her creepy, but I think she's really sweet. And she's unbelievably talented. It's almost like she can pick up anything (like say that pop can I threw out at lunch) and make a masterpiece out of it. Okay, I might be exaggerating just a little since she works mostly with watercolours, but trust me, you'd think the same way if you saw some of her more adventurous work.

I met Tidus in my Physical Education class. He's basically my exact polar opposite—athletic. He's the star of the school's Blitzball team, a social butterfly, and a ladies' man. Despite the stereotypes—the ones about dumb jocks and the ones about dumb blondes—he isn't an idiot. He's an amazing strategist, which is pretty much a requirement if you play a sport with teams consisting of more than two people. Badminton was more my speed. Unfortunately, our first unit was on basketball. Tidus offered me a few pointers on my game, and surprisingly didn't whip me in the ass with a wet towel while we were changing so I guess the guy can't be all that bad, right?

There's Serah who I'd met on my first day. The pink-haired girl. We're in chemistry together along with her friend Noel. The two of them seem to be a little inseparable at this point—I have yet to see one without the other. I think she's also the first female I've met who's clothing I couldn't see. Thank Etro for lab coats (and lunch tables, since that's what was obstructing my view the first time we met). Serah's a sweetheart too, very caring. Noel on the other hand is a great guy. He's an opposite of me too—I mean besides having dark hair and being a bit taller. He isn't shy or awkward in the least. He's a little cocky, but not in that douchebag sort of way, you know? And he's smart; he would have to be to be taking AP Philosophy along with Calculus and Physics. I remember him saying something about wanting to squash the myth of time travel and make it a reality; I told him that I could probably make him a time machine. I'm starting to think of him as the older brother I never had.

Then there's Vanille; I met her in my English class. She's almost a polar opposite to the shy and quiet Yeul. Vanille's upbeat and full of smiles—the kind of smiles that make it impossible not to smile back. She's friendly and a little quirky, but not at all overbearing. Her hair is a light orange-bordering-red colour and smells faintly of peaches. It's prettier than my lame description leads on, and no, I haven't been sniffing her. She's got bright green eyes and an accent strikingly similar to Fang's (though her voice isn't nearly as...sultry?) so I basically melt every time she says my name. That sounds a little cheesy, but it's true. I've been meaning to ask her if she's related to my art teacher, but haven't gotten around to it yet. At this point, I'm more worried about saying something stupid or coming off as a weirdo.

I think I'm doing alright so far.

I met Rikku, a girl in my Woodshop class; Yuna and Yuffie, girls in my Computer Science class; and a few others. I was actually fitting in pretty well despite my insecurities.

I was also meeting a lot of girls, which I won't even complain about because really.

-—-—-

By the time the end of the day (it was Friday) was in sight, I was looking forward to the weekend. Lebreau had made another pointed attempt at asking me to go out (to which I finally caved at gave a concrete "yes" to). Peer pressure had made me its bitch. I didn't mind, though.

The final bell had rung and my Calculus class ended, but not before Mr. Rosch cut his eyes at me again. I didn't know what his problem with me was. I figured if I were him, I would favour me. I mean, we both have silver hair.

...Anyway.

I remembered my first day at my new school in Bodhum; lunch time when I met Serah and Noel. I told them I'd meet them by the end of the week. Well, it's the end of the week. Only problem was I had no idea where to meet them. I ambled down the hall to my locker (which I'd finally found the time to get sorted out) and peeked at my hand. I'd written my new combo on my palm but it had mostly faded thanks to that bout of nervousness I had during an encounter with Vanille outside of English class. I could just barely read the numbers.

After getting the contraption open (after quite a few tries, too) and depositing what I wouldn't be needing for the weekend, I shut it and glanced around the quickly thinning crowd of students in the hall, feeling a little lost. I really should have asked Serah where I was supposed to meet with her and Noel, at least. I didn't even ask her what she wanted from me.

"Hope!" I turned at the sound of my name (totally not almost melting into a puddle of goo because _ugh that accent_), my bangs falling into my eyes as I caught a glimpse of soft light orange coming my way. I think my palms started sweating instantaneously.

"Vanille," I said, sounding pretty lame to myself. She bounded up to me, her cute pigtails bouncing with each step.

"Are you heading home?" she asked me, her canvas bag slung over her pale shoulder. Did I mention that she's got really _really_ nice skin? I couldn't help but notice, you know since she shows off quite a bit between her short skirt, sleeveless top, and exposed midriff. I might have been surviving socially so far, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could go with all these scantily-clad girls running around without getting a spontaneous nosebleed.

I mean, nothing says "hi I'm raging hormonal pervert" like hemorrhaging from your nose.

I shook my head, "Not yet. I told Serah and Noel I'd meet them after school today." She smiled and nodded with a small "oh". I smiled back—albeit a little awkwardly. I'm not too sure why she had this effect on me, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't the only one she charmed like this.

"Well, they're probably in the yearbook office," she said, tapping a slender finger against her chin, her eyes wandering off to the side. She was cute when she was in thought. Well, she was cute all the time but... You know what I mean! Sheesh, stop making me say embarrassing things. I blinked at her.

"Yearbook office?" I asked, head tilting the slightest bit. Forgive me, I'm new here, remember? She nodded and grabbed my arm lightly. Her hands are really soft.

...Remember when I said I trying to not come off sounding like a creep? I think I'm treading that line now.

"You don't know where it is, do you?" Vanille asked, pulling me along before even waiting for me to answer. I felt a little weird being dragged down the hall, my face burning as we passed a few girls. I could hear them giggling. Vanille's hand was warm around my wrist, and my hands were beginning to sweat profusely; I couldn't wipe them on my pants—she had my free hand and my other hand was dragging my backpack behind me.

We stopped abruptly in front of a closed door before she knocked loudly, turning to smile that smile of hers. I smiled back, feeling colour flood my cheeks. The door swung open within moments and it felt kind of like a rude awakening in the sense that I was in no way ready for it. Serah's face came into view.

"Hope! I'm glad you could make it," she said, her light blue eyes flickering over to Vanille. The orange-haired girl just stepped out of the way, waving at us with both hands before smiling and letting out a really cute _Ciao!_ before hop-skipping her way down the hall and out of sight. I turned to Serah and immediately blanched at the look she was giving me.

What?! Can't I watch a cute girl skip down the hall? Apparently not without having a thin pink eyebrow raised at me in amusement.

"I... She brought me over here because I didn't know how to get here on my own..." I said. Lame excuses. I'm full of them. I rubbed at the back of my hair sheepishly. Serah seemed to think it was cute. Or maybe she thought I was a loser because it's a little hard to read girls when they giggle behind their hand like that. She shook her head a bit before letting me into the room.

"It's not your fault," she said. "I realized that I didn't even bother to tell you what I wanted you to meet us for." Well, at least we were on the same wavelength. Sort of. "Come with me."

I followed behind her as she led me in further, watching the way her ponytail bounced and swayed in time with her steps before she turned to me again.

"This is the yearbook office," she said, gesturing to the interior of the room.

The room was pretty standard issue; three desks, a copy machine, etcetera. It was obvious which desk belonged to who between Serah and Noel. Serah's desk was in pristine order; papers stacked, books piled, computer ready for use. A framed photo of Serah and some older-looking guy I immediately guessed as her boyfriend sat near the top right-hand corner. I knew she and Noel didn't have anything romantic going on. Besides, Serah looked like the type who liked older guys.

She just did, okay?

Noel's desk was the total opposite; papers scattered, old yearbooks opened, spread out, and scribbled in—probably to help generate new creative ideas for the next yearbook. His computer had a bunch of windows open and lining the taskbar. The desk in the far corner looked a lot like Serah's save for a few photo portfolios and one or two film canisters. The photocopier sat alone in a corner of the room next to a door that lead to a tiny kitchenette, which must've been super-convenient on late nights spent on editing. A few feet away from that was another door labeled "DARK ROOM".

I blinked before looking at her.

"There's only three of you?" I asked incredulously. I mean, I'm not really in a position to doubt their ability to work efficiently with only three people since I've never seen them work, but the idea seemed impossible. Serah shook her head.

"No, it's just me and Noel," she answered. "I'm editor in chief and typographer, and Noel's graphic designer. Our photographer quit on us a while ago, though. Noel's been trying to double as graphic designer and photographer but he's not doing such a good job." I laughed a little.

"Well jeez Serah don't sugarcoat it," Noel's voice came from the door. He had a camera in hand—one bigger than the little digital one I had gotten for my birthday a few years back. He strode across the room and set the device on the empty desk before moving to sit at his own, picking up a yearbook to look at it.

"So... What do you need me for?" I asked, shifting my weight between my feet. I looked at Serah as she smiled at me, her eyes narrowing a little. She looked like she was plotting something. A plotting woman was never a good sign.

"Well, I wanted to ask you if you'd be our new photographer," she said, rocking on the balls of her feet. My eyes widened a bit. I didn't know very much about photography, which was kind of ironic because I'm good with machines which means I can obviously figure our how to work a camera, and I'm artistic, which means I'd know how to capture some pretty nice photos. But photography was one of those things I felt like you needed to know inside out. I mean, anyone can point a camera and press the shutter button. Doesn't mean I was cut out to be on the yearbook committee.

But Serah looked so hopeful, and I felt a little sorry for the two of them having to be the only ones working on something everyone looked forward to. So I said yes. I was proving to be quite the pushover. Girls are one of my weaknesses, if you haven't figured that one out yet.

"I'll do it," I said. "I'm not experienced, but I'm sure I can get the hang of it no problem; I'm a fast learner." Serah clapped lightly and bounced in her spot.

"Thank you!" she all but gushed. I couldn't help but smile.

"Well, since you're officially on the committee," Noel piped up from his desk, "let me know what you think of some of these designs..." He stood from his seat and offered it to me. I sat and took the mouse to his computer in my hand and clicked on the photoshop window on the taskbar before clicking through the various tabs he had open. Most of them were half-finish page layouts—one with a colourful mosaic pattern, another more plain with stars all over it, and another with typography as the border.

"They're all just base ideas," Noel continued, perching his elbow on the seat I was in, his free hand playing at the back of his hair. I guess he got nervous when people critiqued his work. "Once we decide on one, I can modify it to accommodate photos and stuff... Which one do you like?" I'd been watching Noel's faceless silhouette off of the computer screen while he spoke. I clicked through the tabs again.

"This one's nice," I said, pointing to the plain one with the stars. "Minimalism is good; some of the older designs look a little too busy, so maybe something more simplistic will be a good change." I looked over a few of the older yearbooks as I spoke. "It's a good start. Maybe you should add a few photos and try a few headings and stuff on each of them before making a final decision." I glanced up at Noel and his eyes were trained on the screen, as if he were generating more ideas based off of what I'd said.

"See, you're perfect for the job!" Serah said. "I knew you would be; as soon as I saw you I knew it." I laughed a little, rubbing at the back of my hair again.

So that's how I was appointed yearbook photographer.

I stood from Noel's desk and walked over to the empty one—my desk. I blinked down at the camera before picking it up, looking it over. There was something about holding a professional camera that really made you feel like you were a professional photographer. I was slowly starting to feel less apprehensive about the whole thing.

"Guess what?" Serah asked me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "I've already got your first assignment." I rose an eyebrow and looked up at her.

"Uh, I'm not even sure I know how to turn the camera on," I said lamely, looking down at the thing in my hands. "I'm not sure I'm ready to be taking pictures."

"Well, think of this as a test run," she said, taking me by the arm and leading me towards the door. "There's tryouts for the girls' volleyball team going on today; my sister's trying out and I wanted to be there for moral support. Come with me; you can use this as your training session." I blinked at her as she dragged me down the hall towards the gymnasium. She wanted me to take pictures of the girls' volleyball tryouts. Girls' volleyball. Girls. Jumping around. In tight little shorts. Girls jumping around. Girls jumping around in tight little shorts. This was certainly turning out better than I had imagined. I simply nodded for fear that if I opened my mouth, I might not be able to keep my excitement to myself.

She yanked open the heavy door to the gym and let me in before her and I almost fell over at the sight. Girls stretching, doing warm-up exercises, tying their hair up. I think I stood at the door and just gawked for about five minutes straight before Serah pulled me over to the bleachers.

"Alright ladies!" the coach called with a sharp blow of his whistle. "Let's start with some spiking exercises!" I blinked, watching as the girls set themselves up, all of them lined up on the far side of the net. I leaned over to Serah.

"Which one is your sister?" I asked. I hadn't spotted anyone who looked like her just yet. Watching the first few girls in line spike the ball as the coach tossed it up directly in front of the net, I looked down to the camera in my lap. I had recently figured out how to turn it on—success! One step closer to actually knowing what I was doing. I peeked through the viewfinder and focused on the court.

The girls were still doing their drill when I saw her. She was getting ready to go next, her arms swinging at her sides gently as she rocked on her feet in anticipation. She was literally the epitome of perfection. I snapped a photo. Her pink strands fell over her left shoulder in delicate curls, her bangs obscuring her face from view at this angle. Her t-shirt sleeves were rolled up to her shoulders and the midsection was lifted and tied in a small knot at the back to keep the extra fabric from getting in her way, showing off her lightly toned stomach. Her tiny black shorts shaped her hips perfectly, leading to creamy thighs and slender legs. I was mesmerized.

"Go Lightning! You can do it!"

Lightning? Was that her name? Wait, was that Serah's sister? Come to think of it, they did both have pink hair.

Wow Hope, way to pick at the details and totally disregard the bigger picture.

My heart skipped a beat as she turned to look over at us. I snapped another picture when the barest of smiles graced her lips, icy blue eyes flicking over to me at the last second before focusing on the task at hand. The ball left the coach's hand and she instantly sprang into action, taking the few running steps towards the net before launching herself into the air. Her hand collided with the ball and sent it flying to the other side of the court, touching down in the back corner pocket; a deadly point-scoring zone. She was amazing.

"Nice work, Farron," the coach called, patting her on the back with his large hand.

The drill continued for another fifteen or twenty minutes and I couldn't seem to keep my eyes off of her.

"Figured out which one's my sister yet?" Serah asked with a smile. I'd honestly almost forgotten she was sitting next to me. I nodded slowly, never taking my eyes off the court. "Her name's Lightning; not by birth, obviously. She was captain of the team for three years, and is aiming for top spot again this year. I'm sure she'll get it, though." I nodded mindlessly as Serah spoke, blinking slowly before suddenly stopping mid-nod.

...Wait a minute. She's a senior?

In the time it took me to process this vital information, a water break had been called. It took me all of five seconds to realize that she was coming over to me—us, over to us. Serah was there too. I swallowed. Her forehead and neck were covered in a light sheen of sweat, making her bangs stick to her skin. Getting a better look at her, I had to fight hard not to stare. She's a bit taller than I'd anticipated—possibly still taller than me, even in my new-found five-foot-seven glory. Her waist is slender and gently toned like that of a true athlete. She has full, pouty lips and a straight nose. Her eyes are brighter than Serah's—her eyes looked more like... Like lightning. Woah... My mind just got blown.

Oh, and her bellybutton's pierced.

I have no idea how I'm even still functioning right now. I busied myself with my camera lest she catch me staring.

"You're doing great out there, Light," Serah said with a smile, standing to meet her sister with a gentle hug. The older of the two smiled softly.

"Thanks," she said. Her voice suited her perfectly; the perfect balance between sultry and mischievous. Or maybe I couldn't hear properly over the bells going off in my mind. "Who's your friend?" I felt my face reddening as I looked up between the two of them before standing awkwardly.

"Oh, this is Hope Estheim," she answered. I was a little annoyed, but thankful at the same time. I could speak for myself, but I didn't trust my voice at that exact moment. Not with this pink-haired, pouty-lipped goddess standing nearby. "Hope, this is my older sister Lightning Farron." Lightning looked at me and I swear something really cliche like sparks flying or fireworks going off happened. It happened somewhere, I'm sure of it. I summoned enough willpower to shake her hand before she looked down at the camera in my hands. Her palms were hot and sweaty.

"Seems you've finally found a replacement photographer," she said, glancing at her sister again. I felt like I could breathe again. Oh, maybe that was because I was holding my breath... That could be it.

"Yup!" Serah beamed. "And he's a natural." I laughed a little sheepishly. I'm not sure I'd call myself a natural; I still needed to look over the photos I'd taken so far (more than half I'm sure were of Lightning). Lightning just laughed lightly at her sister's enthusiasm. One of those little chuckles. You know the kind that sound sort of flirtatious? I don't know how else to describe it even though it's completely out of context, but whatever. I know what I'm talking about.

"Alright ladies, let's get back to it!" The coach's whistle sounded, making me cringe a little.

"Kick some butt, sis!" Serah called to her sister's retreating back. And it was that little grin that she shot back in our direction before running off the join the rest of the girls on the court that sealed the deal for me. I'd meant to get a shot of her walking away, but she turned just in time. Lowering the camera and looking at the playback images on the display screen, I knew.

I had just fallen in love with Lightning Farron.

* * *

**A/N:** please tell me i'm not the only one who could see light as a totally kickass volleyball player. it's actually the only sport i could see her playing, lol. but i chose it mostly because i used to play and i'd probably have trouble describing any other sport SO IT HELPS WITH THE STORY YESSSS. but yes anyway. i think the story's about to really take off, so hopefully i'll update again soon because i'm writing like crazy lately.


	3. III

**WALLFLOWER**

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******Pairing:** Hope/Lightning

**Summary: **AU; After living in Palumpolum for his entire life, Hope is forced to re-familiarize himself with high school life after moving to Bodhum without warning just before starting his junior year. Between not wanting to be a loner and wanting to blend in enough to avoid being bullied all over again, he struggles to find equilibrium while juggling his classes and taking on the role of photographer for the yearbook. He thinks he can handle it until a certain pink-haired senior becomes the ultimate distraction.**  
**

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**III  
**

* * *

I've only ever been in love one other time in my life.

It was with a girl in Palumpolum, and I was in the second grade. She was cute and blonde and always shared half of her fudge brownie with me. Comparing that to this was like black and white. I was never so enraptured that I couldn't look away, I didn't get so nervous (though, I was always kind of shy) I couldn't speak; none of that happened. It might have had something to do with the fact that my "first love" was over eight years ago. I also think it was the brownies that had me hooked.

Serah offered to go to Lebreau's cafe with me after the volleyball tryouts had ended. I had told her about it sometime during the tryouts (most likely sometime when I wasn't gawking at Lightning, because I couldn't do anything but stare), and she said that she was heading over there later this evening. She also said that Lightning would be going with her too. I wasn't so sure I was ready for that. I was still trying to overcome the sudden head rush I'd experienced upon my sudden discovery. It was like being on a roller coaster; heart dropping, stomach lurching, mind reeling.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but I was feeling a little light-headed.

"Hope?" Serah's voice sounded concerned. I blinked up at her with a very intelligent "huh?". I spaced out, I guess. Oops. "Are you coming with us?"

"I..." My voice died out when I saw Lightning again. She was changed back into her normal clothes, no longer sweaty, out of breath, with her cheeks lightly flushed. I got a picture of her like that too. I _am not_ a creep. "I guess... I don't have much homework so I guess I could put it off for tonight," I said. Yup, still procrastinating. I think I set a new record for how long I've gone without doing my homework immediately after it was assigned. This, being the first time...

Shut up.

When Lightning finally made it to the bottom of the bleachers (where Serah and I were sitting two rows up), I was hyper-aware of her presence. I was starting to wonder about myself—I mean, she was ten feet away from me and I was getting sweaty palms. Standing there all crossed arms and cocked hip and utter perfection. She had an ethereal beauty about herself too, but it was distinctly different from Yeul's. Where Yeul was delicate and soft-spoken, Lightning was tough around the edges but still managed to have this softness to her.

"Good," Serah said. "It's no good if you hide away at home all the time." Suddenly I wondered if Serah followed me around or something. Why did she know that I actually did hide in my house most of the time? My disposition must scream _hermit_ or something.

"He's coming with us?" Lightning asked in that liquid honey (I had to compare it to something and that's what came to mind first so don't give me that look) voice of hers. "Aren't you a little young?" Well that struck a nerve. Damn my youthful face. It seems to be the only thing that didn't change much when I reached puberty. That, and my innate lack of body hair, not that I was complaining.

"I'm seventeen," I mumbled, hands fiddling with the camera. I glanced at her long enough to watch her eyebrow raise.

"You look like a freshman from down here," she said, amusement evident. I frowned. I felt like everything had reverted back to freshman year, when I was picked on for my height. I knew it wasn't under the same circumstances, but it still hit a little close to home. "But anyway, it'll be nice to have you come with. I'll have someone to talk to once my sister goes off with her idiot of a boyfriend." Serah frowned. And suddenly I was a whole lot more interested in their conversation.

"Everyone else is going to be there," Serah said, making her way down and off of the bleachers. I followed, palms getting sweatier the closer I moved to Lightning. I was just barely taller than her, which seemed to surprise her, though she didn't say anything about it. I felt like bragging about it; like being a little brat and pointing in her face, and yelling that I'm not as short as she thought.

But I'm a little more mature than that.

"And I don't understand why you won't just give him a chance," Serah continued.

"He's not good enough for you Serah," Lightning said with a frown. So she was the protective sister type. I don't think I've ever found that kind of personality attractive before now. Not that I would know too much about it to begin with, since I'm an only child. Serah didn't seem to mind it too much, though her face seemed to be in a perpetual cross between a legitimate pout and a frown.

"Knowing you, Light, you don't think _any_ guys are good enough for me," she mumbled, stepping down off the bleachers. Lightning only shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's the truth," she said. "No one's good enough for my little sister." I wasn't sure if I was impressed by her obligation to play the protective sister (since from what I knew, not all siblings liked to acknowledge one another while at school—like it was some kind of unwritten rule), or if I thought that because she thought that way about Serah, she thought that way about herself, too. She didn't seem like the cocky _I'm-too-good-for-everyone_ type, but just because she wasn't outward about it didn't mean it wasn't there.

I followed the Farron sisters out of the gym and into the vacant hallway. I hitched my backpack higher onto my shoulder as we lingered around the area in front of the gym.

"We all ready to go?" Lightning asked, pulling her keys out of the pocket of her short skirt. And when I say 'short' I mean like, almost non-existent. She might as well still be in her little volleyball shorts. ...And I should be caged.

Serah gave her sister a nod.

"Yeah," she said. "Noel told me he was going to lock up the office, so I have no reason to go back there." Lightning seemed to take in this information without even changing her facial expression before glancing at me. My eyes widened a bit and I nodded.

"I've got everything I need," I said. I still had the camera in my hands and was fiddling with it. For the briefest of moments, I thought about dashing to my locker to put it away, but I didn't want to seem like an indecisive fool after just confirming that I didn't need to do anything else before we headed over to Lebreau's—something about making first impressions and caring too much what people thought about me. I put it in my backpack instead. I needed to remember to get a case or a bag for it or something.

Lightning just gave me a look before nodding, throwing a "Let's get going" over her shoulder as she exited the building.

In Palumpolum, I was beginning to wonder if I was abnormal or something. After that girl I knew in the second grade had more or less faded away into the background of the white space I called my mind, I didn't take any interest in anyone else. There were cute girls, but none of them sparked my interest, you know? But upon coming here, I've realized that nope, I'm not abnormal; I'm a regular raging hormonal teenager who seems to have a knack for noticing how much skin girls around here show off. Not to mention having a crush—wait, hadn't I already decided I was in love?—on an older woman. For others it happened with a teacher, or someone else several years older; they knew that despite how "pure" and "real" their feelings were, there was absolutely no way a relationship could unfold (I mean unless the older woman was into that kind of thing; after all, age is just a number, right?). For me, though it looked like it was going to be one of those _so-close-yet-so-far_ things.

Ha. Look at me, giving my situation labels less than half an hour after the situation even came into existence. Jeez Hope, you're gonna end up as one of those people who try to force commitment on others. You know, the crazies who threaten to kill themselves if the object of their affection doesn't elope with them or something? I've seen it in TV shows before, so it must be possible.

I followed Lightning and Serah out to the student parking lot, eyebrows raising to my hairline when I realized _woah Lightning drives_. I don't even drive yet; I'd taken my first test and had my Learner's Permit, but I had no car, and no adult who was willing to drive around with me everywhere that I went because that was the law. I was due for my full license soon, though. Maybe I would hold off on the move-making until then because I'm pretty sure it's classified as embarrassing and possibly permanently damaging to a guy's manly pride if a girl has to drive him around on a date.

She popped the trunk and tossed her gym bag inside before glancing at me.

"You can leave your bag in here," she said, reaching to take it from me. I handed it to her and watched her eyebrows furrow as she took on the full weight of it. My calculus textbook was in there; I didn't blame her. Her arm didn't show any signs of strain, though. "How many books do you have in here?" she asked, setting my bag in the trunk gently. I shrugged.

"My calculus book is the about the size of the A, B, and C volumes of the _World Book Encyclopedia_ put together," I said. She just blinked at me before smiling a little. I almost melted.

"A math genius, huh?" she said as opposed to questioning. I shrugged a bit.

"An engineer of sorts, I guess," I offered. "Apparently I can't take apart and put things back together for the rest of my life without an extensive knowledge of addition and subtraction." Sometimes I sounded too... technical, even to myself. That was actually supposed to be a joke. A very lame joke. She only nodded before shutting the trunk and moving to the driver's seat. Serah was still waiting outside, pulling the passenger's seat forward and gesturing for me to get in. I did as I was instructed—_totally_ not getting tangled in the seat belt in the process, nope—and strapped myself in.

-—-—-

The ride to Lebreau's cafe was mostly uneventful. The three of us were silent as Lightning drove. She was a surprisingly excellent driver, like she'd been doing it for years when in reality, she couldn't have been driving (legally, anyway) for more than two.

It seemed like everyone's Friday night had started early. It was a little hard to find somewhere to park, but once we did, we unloaded out of the car—once again, I did _not_ get tangled in the seat belt—and headed towards the beachside cafe. There were a few people I recognized from a few of my classes—even Fang was there, though she was off by herself, conversing with Lebreau behind the counter.

"Hope, Serah, Lightning!" Lebreau spotted us, saying something to Fang before coming out from behind the counter, a wide smile on her face. "I'm glad you guys could make it." The sentiment was directed more to me than the girls. I smiled a little—more comfortably than I had been since the volleyball tryouts. I was used to Lebreau and even though she was pretty cute, I was comfortable around her.

"I'm glad I decided to tag along," I said. And I was—Serah had been right; it was about time I stopped hiding away at home. Even if I did enjoy the comfort of my little self-made knick-knacks and such. But this was nice.

The atmosphere of the place was lively and bouncing with teenage energy. It was nothing like I'd envisioned it. I had a habit of basing everything I might or might not experience off of what it was shown to be like on TV or in movies. When Lebreau invited me out, I imagined it being like one of those night clubs; the kind where there's no room to move without brushing up against ten other people at once. I was skeptical at first because really; can you see a guy like me in a place like that? All legal issues aside, can you really see it?

Yeah, me neither.

Serah pulled Lightning and I over to a table where I eventually spotted Noel, Maqui, Yuj, and two other huge-looking guys I'd never seen before. I swear on my life, every other guy in Bodhum is an exact opposite of me whether or not they have regular-coloured hair, or aren't shy, or are built beyond any muscle capacity I might actually be capable of reaching.

Yuj and Maqui greeted me with warm smiles and gentle pats to my shoulder before grabbing a stray chair and sandwiching me in between them. I looked around the table, particularly at the two guys I'd never seen before (well, the blonde one looked sort of familiar, but I wasn't too sure).

"Well who's this?" he asked, his voice equally as big as he was. He didn't look like a student—he was entirely way too big. They both were.

"This is Hope," Yuj introduced me. I was starting to wonder if everyone thought I was incapable of saying my own name or something. This was like, the third time. "Hope, this is Snow and Gadot; friends of ours." I nodded slowly, reaching to shake hands with both of them, suddenly afraid that their hands would swallow mine whole.

"A new addition to the family!" the blonde—Snow—said merrily. He didn't seem like the overly-cheery type, but here he was, proving that looks can be deceiving. He grinned at me, crossing his large arms over the back of the chair he was sitting on backwards. Gadot kind of just sized me up. Serah took a seat beside Snow, and Lightning sat on the other side of her sister, arms and legs crossed. Suddenly I remembered where I recognized the blonde man from, just as Serah slid her arm to wrap around his before he slung the appendage over her shoulders altogether. The guy from the photo on Serah's desk; her boyfriend.

The conversation they were having continued like it was never interrupted by our arrival and trivial introductions. I was barely listening, getting in a small laugh every now and then so I wouldn't get singled out as the kid who didn't understand the jokes. Or simply the new kid who couldn't relate to anything being said because they were talking about one of those _you-had-to-be-there-to-know-how-funny-it-was_ things. I didn't have any memories like that.

About an hour or so later, after I was probed by Snow and Gadot (since everyone else, aside from Lightning) already knew a bit about me, Lebreau swung by our table again, asking if anyone wanted anything to drink. The others ordered alcohol (of course; I mean what else does one drink at a cafe on a Friday night?) while I ordered,

"Water," I said lamely. Everyone at the table laughed—even Lightning cracked a small smile. "...What?"

"Hope, it's Friday night," Snow said to me. "Live a little." I frowned a little. Peer pressure had gotten the better of me once already—that's why I was even there. But I wasn't about to let it get to me twice. Not twice in the same day, at least.

"I don't drink," I said simply. "I've never really felt the desire to." Everyone kind of just looked at me like I was weird, but in that subtle way, not like I'd suddenly grown another head. I think I might have been more comfortable if they looked at me like that instead, though.

"You seriously don't drink?" Yuj asked.

"Like, at all?" Maqui added, his eyes wide. I shrugged.

"What's the big deal about alcohol anyway?" I asked. "All it does is fry your braincells and destroy your liver. Those are both things I'd like to keep." I was sounding like a prude, even to myself, but this was something I had strong morals about, even if I was supposed to be a reckless teenager at this age. I just couldn't seem to get the "reckless" part down.

"Sometimes it's nice to unwind after a long day," Snow said, a small smile on his face, blue eyes staring at me. "What better way to do that then with good company and good conversation over a couple of drinks?" I blinked at him, my mouth twisting in something between a confused frown and an annoyed frown before I spoke again.

"I guess you and I just unwind differently," I said, leaning back in my chair. My idea of unwinding consisted of tossing my boomerang around by myself, but I wasn't about to talk about that.

"Come on guys, leave the kid alone," Lightning said with a roll of her eyes, though there was another one of those barely-there smiles on her lips. I added _Hope's personal saviour in awkward social situations_ to her list of traits. "It's his first day hanging with us and you're already bullying him."

"He's got bite though," Snow said with a wide grin. "I like him." Funny, I didn't like Snow. He was entirely too... Something I didn't like. Maybe it was because it was our first meeting and he was already trying to pressure me into things. Something told me that he and I weren't going to be seeing eye to eye any time soon.

Lebreau took our orders and disappeared again, the topic of my stinginess towards alcohol quickly becoming a thing of the past, thank Etro.

The night continued with every one sipping glass after glass of whatever drink they kept telling Lebreau to bring another of, while I managed to make it to the bottom of a staggering two glasses of water. I think that deserves a name like "light-lightweight" or something equally as pathetic-sounding. The conversation didn't stay on any one topic, especially once the alcohol started sinking into their systems. Maqui was particularly amusing to watch because being roughly my size (which is smaller than all the other males at the table), he wasn't able to hold his liquor very well. Surprisingly, Noel had the highest tolerance. Somewhere between everything, Serah and Snow had disappeared.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, I frowned. It was getting late.

"I should get going," I said. I was torn between "I have homework to do" and "my mom doesn't know where I am right now", both of which were true but probably weren't going to help the steady reputation I was growing. Someone might as well stamp "PRUDE" onto my forehead with one of those obnoxious red ink stamps. "Uh, my bag is in your car." I glanced at Lighting before she nodded at me, finishing what was in her glass and standing.

"I'll drop you off," she said, straightening out her top before pushing her chair in as far as it could go considering we were overcrowding our table while providing a seating shortage at the other tables around us. I nodded and followed her out of the cafe, hearing her call back to the others with an "I'll be back".

The night was significantly cooler than it had been all day, the ocean breeze blew through my hair immediately upon stepping outside. I followed Lightning back to the parking lot silently, my palms slowly beginning to sweat. Over the course of the past four hours, I'd definitely gotten used to having her around. She'd even contributed to the conversation, making sly jokes when she could (usually at Snow's expence; I could tell she really didn't like him, but at least it was all in good fun at this point).

I wiped my hands on the side of my pants.

"Uh, should you be driving?" I asked. The longer I talked tonight, the more I could understand the looks I'd gotten when I told everyone that I don't drink. She turned to me, her eyebrow risen.

"Unlike the others, I know how to pace myself," she said. "Besides, Noel isn't the only one with an iron liver." I'm not so sure I should've smiled at that, but I couldn't help the little tug at the corner of my lips. She unlocked the car and we got in. I actually—really and truly—didn't get tangled in the seat belt this time. She started the engine and put the vehicle in reverse, pulling out of her parking space. I silently hoped it'd still be free when she got back because if it weren't for the fact that my bag were in the trunk, she wouldn't have to leave in the first place. "And don't feel bad about not drinking," she continued. "Serah doesn't either."

"Is that by her own choice or because her big sister won't let her?" I asked, glancing at her as she drove, pointing out that she needed to make a right turn at the next traffic light. She chuckled lightly.

"A bit of both, actually," she admitted, making the right-hand turn.

"You know, I kind of wish I had an older sibling like you growing up," I said. Immediately I wished I hadn't. I was totally setting myself up for something I really, _really_ wouldn't want later on. Lightning glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road.

"Is that so?" she asked, that same little smile I was steadily growing to like on her lips. "Are you the oldest?"

"An only child," I answered. "Even if I were oldest born, I'd still probably be the one in my family to get picked on. My sibling probably would've lucked out and inherited my father's brown hair as opposed to my mother's silver." I wasn't sure why I was suddenly so comfortable with her after mentally freaking out for about an hour or so earlier today. I don't know, maybe it was the light atmosphere that the night's festivities had brought around, but normally in a situation like this, I'd be a wreck. Hell, I was a nervous wreck when I was around Vanille at school and she was just insanely cute.

I was making absolutely no sense to myself.

"You were bullied because of your hair colour?" she asked. She sounded incredulous.

"Among other things," I said. "But I guess that's another story for another day. My house is up there."

The rest of the ride was quiet. Lightning popped the trunk after parking in the driveway and I got out of the car, retrieving my bag from the back. I stopped by the passenger window on my way towards my door, peeking in through the window. Lightning blinked at me, her icy blue eyes faintly illuminated by the headlights of the car shining on the white of my house.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, smiling the slightest bit. She nodded to me.

"It's nothing," she said. "See you around." I nodded and she put the car in reverse, pulling out of the driveway and heading back towards Lebreau's cafe.

Needless to say, my heart jump-started palpitating and about three-thousand different renditions of the thought what the _hell just happened?_ ran through my mind. Some were probably in another language that I didn't even know I knew. That's how confused—surprised, hopeful, ecstatic, etc.—I was. I really needed to learn to curb these inner outbursts. Yeah, that's an oxymoron, I know. But it was a little hard to deal with, you know.

Pretend you know what I'm talking about, okay?

I walked the short ten-foot walk to my front door with one of the widest smiles I've ever had.


	4. IV

**WALLFLOWER**

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******Pairing:** Hope/Lightning

**Summary: **After living in Palumpolum for his entire life, Hope is forced to re-familiarize himself with high school life after moving to Bodhum without warning just before starting his junior year. Between not wanting to be a loner and wanting to blend in enough to avoid being bullied all over again, he struggles to find equilibrium while juggling his classes and taking on the role of photographer for the yearbook. He thinks he can handle it until a certain pink-haired senior becomes the ultimate distraction.**  
**

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**IV**

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I think it goes without saying that I got in a lot of trouble after I got back from Lebreau's. I know that I'm seventeen, and thus responsible enough to take care of myself. But my parents seem to forget that they conceived me seventeen years ago—my mother more so than my father. She was almost instantly in worried mother mode, asking me if I was hurt at all.

As I was explaining everything that led up to where I had been for the passed few hours, I discovered it was a mistake to bring up the fact that "a lot of people I go to school with were there" and that "I wasn't drinking" because it all implied one thing: underage drinking. My parents are the type that don't care whether or not I was doing something, but the fact that it happened while I was there at all. My father was "especially disappointed" in me because I had neglected my studies to participate in "reckless behaviour". I think it's safe to say he overreacted just a little.

I'm not the type to fight with my parents. I don't have outbursts in the middle of confrontation with them or act out or anything like that. I'm just not the type. I usually take what's said and get in as much as I can without creating an uproar, then apologize for worrying them. It usually works.

Tonight was proof of that.

They had eaten dinner without me, but I wasn't very hungry. I was full on the weird sensations running through me; the ones fueled by doing something I didn't usually do (stay out without telling my parents), realizing that for the first time since I'd started my high school career that I actually had friends to go out with, and of course, being around Lightning. Oh, I also made it my main priority to avoid having to bring her up at all because if I did, I knew one of two possible things would happen. Either my father would be even more disappointed in me for "letting a girl come between me and my academics" (which wasn't true because I've known Lightning for all of five hours and my grades haven't been effected); or my mother would start gushing uncontrollably about how her "little man is growing up so fast".

I didn't want either of those things to happen. At all.

After all of that was said and done, I shuffled up to my room and locked myself in there.

When Monday rolled around, I felt this weird surge of anticipation as my mother parked out front like she had on my first day. Even though it wasn't likely to happen because it hadn't happened at all during the first week, I was hoping I would see Lightning. Part of me thought that it would be nice to be able to see her every day without feeling sufficiently creepy, to wave and maybe get one of those little smiles in return.

Every corner I turned, I got this weird bursting feeling in my chest at the thought that maybe, just maybe, she might be around that corner. I think this is what one calls "infatuation". Although I was sure it went beyond that, I guess that's what other people would call it if they saw it. Which I kind of hoped they didn't because in every show I'd watched on TV, once your friends (or anyone, for that matter) knew about your crush on someone, your life was basically ruined. Or at least, that's how the plot always played out.

But my life isn't a teen drama. Not a fabricated one, anyway.

I ducked into art and hopped onto my stool, smiling when I was greeted by the others. Our discussion revolved mostly around what had gone on on Friday night; my refusal to drink and all that seemed to be a hot topic amongst everyone once I'd left. I could picture everyone mocking me with rounds of _he's just a kid_ or _he's a square_ or my personal favourite, _why did he even bother to come?_Much to my surprise though, I got praised for standing my ground. I guess not very many people stand up to Snow. If only they'd known I caved under peer pressure at least twice that same day; I don't think they would've given me any praise at all.

The day continued as per usual. And so did the rest of the week.

At least until Thursday.

Upon entering the school and heading towards my locker like I did every morning, something significantly different happened. Like colliding with something. After stumbling back and landing—quite gracefully, might I add; I'd give myself a ten for sticking that landing—on my backside, I looked up into the wall that had suddenly materialized itself in the middle of the hallway. Except, the wall was a person. A very mean-looking person.

He glowered down at me as I stared up at him with slightly wide eyes before picking myself back up and shuffling around him before he could get a word in. Part of me—the rational part—was still confused as to why he had suddenly shown up where I've never seen him before. Meanwhile, the other part of me—the not-so-rational part, also known as the majority of my subconscious—wondered if I'd just gotten myself into something that could possibly ruin whatever fresh start I was supposed to get upon moving to Bodhum.

I was on-edge for the rest of the morning.

-—-—-

"Do you guys know a lot of seniors?" I asked at lunch, my eyebrows furrowed a bit as I addressed the others. I had been mulling over my cafeteria lunch for about ten minutes, rolling the thought of _who was that guy and should I be concerned that I walked into him this morning?_in my head over and over again. Everyone else was engaged in conversation about some thing or another. Yuj was the first to acknowledge me.

"A few," he said. "Mostly because we're friends with Lightning, though. We usually stick to our own. Why?" He was suddenly close enough for me to count the freckles dusted across his nose, a cheeky smile on his face. "See an older girl that you like?" _...Crap._My face flushed immediately.

"You're blushing!" Lebreau practically squealed. _Double crap._

"N-no, it's not that." Real convincing, Hope. Because stuttering like an idiot is_ totally _fool-proof. "I was wondering because I bumped into someone this morning, and he looked a little too big to be a junior—maybe even too big to be a senior."

"Describe him," Lebreau demanded. I pursed my lips as I conjured the image of his face up in my mind. It wasn't easy to forget.

"He was tall," I started. I don't think that really did any justice because even though I'm five-foot-seven now, I'm still generally considered short for a guy. "He was blonde and had blue eyes; he was kind of built. Oh, and he had this weird tattoo on his face." I pointed to the left side of my face, drawing an invisible line from the side of my forehead to my cheek.

"Zell," Lebreau said matter-of-factly. "He's the only one stupid enough to do that to his own face; he thinks it looks good." Man, he was wrong.

"Yeah, he's not very bright, nor is he very friendly," Yuj supplied. "I know this from first-hand experience."

"It took us forever to get that guy off Yuj's case," Maqui said, turning to me the slightest bit. The edge making its way into his voice told me that the thought still made him angry. "Not to mention he's got a bit of a boundary problem when it comes to Lightning." I don't know if I sat up straighter or anything at the mention of Lightning's name, but I definitely started listening more.

"She can handle that guy," Lebreau said with a small smile. "Light's no pushover."

"Yeah, I know that," Maqui said, rolling his eyes at the food in front of him. "I just hope he doesn't suddenly think it's a good idea to go after Hope." I frowned.

It's not like I was foreign to the concept of being bullied; actually, I was pretty used to it. I was almost certain that if this Zell guy did decide to come after me, there probably wasn't much he could say or do to me that I hadn't already had happen at some point or another while I was in Palumpolum. The only problem was I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle it all over again.

"That guy won't go anywhere near Hope," Lebreau said with a smile before directing a wink at me. I blushed a little.

"I'm not worried about it," I said, blinking at the three of them. "I was just curious about the guy because I'd never seen him until this morning. He like, appeared out of nowhere while I was heading to my locker. He didn't say anything; kind of just glared at me like it was my fault he came out of thin air."

"Sounds like Zell," Yuj said. "That guy seems to think everyone's at fault but him." The classic mentality of a bully—_I'm right, you're wrong; you're weak, I'm strong._

"If he tries anything, let us know, got it?" Yuj told me. I just nodded, pursing my lips to keep myself from saying anything more.

By the time I'd gotten the third period Autoshop, the topic of Zell and all thoughts that I could possibly be bullied again had left my mind. I guess in a way, mechanics also served as a safe haven for me. I could do anything I liked without worrying about being criticized for it. Well, except by my teacher, but that was a given.

Our first major assignment was to create a remote-control car. Sounds hard, right? Not for me and Maqui. We're somewhat of a dream team, I think; Maqui took care of the modeling for the car's body as well as any "special features" we agreed on adding, and I took care of the more internal things.

To say the least, Rygdea—our teacher; I've come to realize that a lot of teachers don't do formalities—was impressed. I mean, not to say that Maqui and I were to best or anything because everyone in our class was pretty amazing, but we must've done something great. That aside though, I kind of wish he hadn't announced it to the class. I prefer to keep a low profile.

Calculus went the same as always—with me getting glared at. At this point, I think my face was just offensive to Mr. Rosch. _He gives everyone a hard time _was what one of the girls who sat near me had told me. I decided to keep that in mind every time I was in that class.

At the end of the day, I headed to the yearbook office. Serah had told me that she, Noel, and I were going to start meeting there as many days after school as we could manage in order to start discussing the more important things for the yearbook-like budgeting and full layouts. When I entered the room, Serah and Noel were both hunched over Noel's computer.

"Hi guys," I said softly as I walked in and set my bag at my desk. Serah turned to me, that same friendly smile on her lips.

"Hi Hope," she said, standing straight. "I made a list of all of the upcoming events we're going to want to catalogue in the yearbook—sporting events and other stuff like that." She handed me a folded piece of paper that read "Annual Events" in that cute cursive I'd come to recognize as Serah's penmanship. The list had each event, the location, the date, and the time.

Judging by how many things were written down, I would be pretty busy this year.

"What happens if something's rescheduled?" I asked, blinking at her. I don't know if you or anyone else has noticed, but I like to think up a lot of worst-case scenarios. In this instance, it would be something important being rescheduled without my knowledge, and me missing the chance to take photos.

"I'll let you know if that happens," Noel said, turning to me. "I'm on student council, so I'm usually the first to know if dates change." I nodded a bit before tilting my head a little. Noel really didn't strike me as the outgoing-student-body-representitive type. Serah had it written all over her, though.

"...What?" the brunette asked.

"What?" I blinked at him, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He must've been able to read the expression clearly because he gave me look.

"You were staring at me."

Good job Hope. Now not only do you have to worry about not coming off as a creep around Vanille, Lightning, and possibly every other girl you've met since coming to Bodhum, but now you have to worry about not seeming like one to Noel. Though I'm sure if the skeptical look he gave me was anything to go by, that ship had since long set sail on the sea of embarrassment.

"Oh. Sorry."

Blinking down at the list in my hand again—if only to dispel the awkward air that was rising quickly, I read the first listing. _Girls' Volleyball Tryouts; Camera Test_. Well, I'd already completed that last week, so I ignored it. Next on the list was _Girls' Volleyball Tryouts; Final Call_. That was scheduled for today.

"They're announcing the team lineup today," Serah said with an excited edge to her voice. "I want to be there when Lightning makes captain again. You know, show that sibling support." No, actually, I didn't know. But I could understand it to some extent. When one did something that made them nervous or excited, they usually needed some sort of moral support, usually from friends or family. From what I'd seen with Serah and Lightning, because they were sisters there was something more than just being there for one another; a deep connection of sorts, almost like telepathy. That was the part I wouldn't be able to understand at all because I'm an only child.

"I want you to be there to take a photo of Light with Coach Kinneas," she said. "They'll be starting soon, so we better get to the gym. Do you mind locking up again, Noel?" The brunette didn't look at either of us as he gave a nod in response. "I'll take that as a yes." Noel mumbled something under his breath, keeping his eyes on the screen in front of him. Taking a quick peek I could see that he was making the absolute final touches to the page layouts for certain sections of the yearbook. Serah let out a small laugh before resting her hand on my shoulder.

"Let's get going, Hope." I nodded and went to get my bag again, slinging it over my shoulder. I could've left it there, but I had a problem with leaving my stuff places. It's another one of those worst-case scenario things; mild paranoia, if you will. I followed Serah to the gym again, holding the heavy door open for her as she ducked inside. We got there just in time to hear the new team lineup.

"Alright ladies," Coach Kinneas—a man with long brown hair and a cowboy hat on; he really didn't look like a coach at all—started as Serah and I climbed onto the bleachers and sat silently. "Here's your lineup for the season. On defense, we've got Garnet, Selphie, and Penelo with Quistis on defense sub. On offense, we've got Yuffie, Tifa, and your returning captain, little Miss Lightning Farron, with Rikku on offense sub. Our full subs are Rinoa and Ashe." There was a small round of applause (mostly from Serah, though) at the announcement that Lightning was once again team captain. I clapped along too, but I think I was a little better at hiding my excitement. Lightning, on the other hand, didn't look too pleased about the nickname Coach Kinneas had given her.

After the list was read and the girls who didn't make the team began to file out of the gym, I felt compelled to tell them that they still had a shot next year and that they shouldn't give up. I busied myself with getting the camera out instead. Too shy.

"Coach Irvine!" Serah called before standing and making her way down off the bleachers. I think if I were to subject myself to sitting next to her at every sporting event that involved her sister for the rest of the school year, I might go deaf in my right ear by the end of May. The long-haired coach looked in our direction, eyebrows raised slightly.

"What is it, Littler Farron?" he asked, beckoning her over. I don't know if I was more amused or jealous at the fact that this guy seemed to be fairly close with both of the Farron sisters. I followed behind her as she tugged me by my wrist. Either girls just happen to really like holding my wrists, or I'm incredibly slow and they've all made it this thing to drag me around because it's the quickest way to get me to do things. I was betting on the latter.

"Can we get a picture of you and your captain for the yearbook?" she asked, winking at her sister. Her voice had this extra sweetness to it, like that was the tone she used when she wanted something. Although I didn't see Serah as the type to do that, it might come in handy every time I with her and didn't feel like talking to people. It's a silly thing to do, but I'm shy so sue me.

The look Lightning gave her sister had _why did you ask him that? _written all over it, and I had to hide a smile behind the back of my hand. The older Farron agreed anyway, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Irvine. I turned the camera on and raised it to my eye, snapping the picture quickly—anything to end Lightning's very obvious discomfort.

"Let's get one of the whole team too," I said, smiling a little and looking to the other girls. The coach seemed to be for it, if only to get it out of the way. After the pictures were done with, Serah and I retreated to the bleachers while the team suited up and started drills.

I left before the practice ended, giving Serah instructions to tell Lightning I said hi.

When I got home, I greeted my mother with a hug and a small kiss to the cheek. Okay, so I really am a momma's boy but it's not a crime is it? Politely declining her offering to make me a snack, I went up to my room to get started on the mountain of Calculus homework Mr. Rosch had assigned.

-—-—-

The next morning was like deja vu.

I bumped into that person again—the one Lebreau said was named Zell. Suddenly he was appearing in the same place at the same time every morning. I think in a hallway this densely crowded, someone else might happen to notice, but it didn't seem that way.

"Are you blind or something, shorty?" he asked me, glowering that same way he had on Thursday morning. "You've been walking into me all week." _Well no, just since yesterday..._I blinked up at him and mumbled an apology before side-stepping him. He stepped in front of me. "What was that?" I exhaled sharply through my nose.

"I said I was sorry," I said louder, my eyebrows furrowing in slight anger; this guy had called me short and blind in the same sentence, and then demanded me to repeat myself. I don't enjoy repeating myself. My parents told me that as a child, I was easily aggravated—especially around the time I turned fourteen. I didn't believe them at first because I didn't remember getting angry like this while I was going to school in Palumpolum, but I was steadily starting to believe them solely based on the situation at hand. I wasn't so much annoyed by the fact that this guy was trying to start something with me, but the fact that my past had decided it was cool to follow me all the way to Bodhum.

Talking louder was definitely a mistake on my part. You would think I knew that by now, but clearly, I didn't. The look he was giving me was a cross between annoyed and amused—you know, the kind that basically told you that you had a lot of guts or something like that.

I side-stepped him again and luckily he didn't try to block me a second time, instead taking to staring me down as I moved down the hall and disappeared around the corner. I made a mental note to find an alternate route to my locker.

We had an assembly that morning—the kind where they get the entire school to converge into one room for at least an hour at a time. We were called down to the auditorium by grade, but that didn't seem to be able to prevent the blockage in the lobby. It was times like that that made me glad I wasn't claustrophobic because being sandwiched between Vanille (who had abandoned her class upon spotting me in the mob of students filing into the auditorium) and a bunch of other people I didn't know for the most part was enough to make my palms sweat.

Vanille clung to my arm as we tried not to lose my class, squeezing between people who were bigger than us before finding a pair of seats near the middle of a row. Once we were seated, we looked at the people around us to try and figure out if we were anywhere near where either of us were supposed to be. It didn't look that way.

I was about to lean back in my seat when I caught a glimpse of familiar pink curls, doing a double-take. Lightning was sitting across the aisle and in the row of seats to the left of the section Vanille and I were seated in. Almost as if she sensed someone was looking at her, she looked directly at me, our eyes locking. Now if my life actually were a fabricated teen drama, there would be some cheesy music playing right about then. Since my life wasn't a fabricated teen drama, I guess I could settle for the murmur of my peers' voices in the background as a substitute. I gave her a small smile and a wave—nothing over-friendly, over-exaggerated, or over-eager; just normal (surprisingly enough). The second she gave me a light nod accompanied with one of those barely-there smiles, I was glad the lights overhead had dimmed because my face burned immediately.

The whole time the assembly was going on—something about drunk driving and not doing it, I didn't pay attention to anything being said (not that I really needed to because I neither drink nor drive)—I kept stealing glances across the auditorium. Lightning was sitting next to some guy I didn't know; a blonde with gravity-defying hair next to a brunette and some other guy I couldn't see properly. Figures she'd have a lot of guy friends; she was gorgeous. That, and she didn't seem the type to have many girl friends.

The third or fourth time I looked in her direction, I heard something like snorting behind me. I ignored it for the most part, keeping my head straightforward and trying to look at her as much as I could through the corner of my eye. She was leaning towards the blonde, a small—but bigger than the ones she gave me—smile spreading on her face. I felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Looks like we've got more than just our morning route in common now, shorty," a voice came from behind me. "We both enjoy looking at Lightning Farron." My eyes widened in the dark. It totally would be my luck that Zell of all people would be sitting directly behind me, in the perfect spot to catch me pretty much ogling Lightning in a room full of people. I let out a shaky breath. I turned my head enough to reply to him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said loud enough for him to hear.

"Sure you don't," he said, sounding amused. "But dream on; you're way out of your league. A girl like that only dates men, not little boys like you." Because yes, I'm so sure she likes guys with tacky tattoos on their face. But really, he _totally would_ play the I-look-like-a-kid card. I sighed heavily. It's always so great when someone who doesn't know you in the least is able to unconsciously pick you apart with a single sentence. Yes, sarcasm is heavily intended. I get really touchy when my masculinity—or lack thereof, I guess—is brought into the equation. If all battles were fought with brains instead of brawn, I would certainly be stronger than this guy because I had enough IQ points to know _not_ to tattoo my face.

I bit down hard on my lower lip and turned to face the front again, looking over to Vanille when I felt her touch my arm lightly. I could see her face well enough in the dim lighting to see that she was giving me a reassuring smile. That told me she'd heard everything both Zell and I said. How wonderful.

My name is Hope Estheim, and I'd like to crawl under a rock right now.

Because I'm pretty sure that things are about to get a whole lot worse for me.

* * *

**A/N:** sorry this took a week to write. well actually it took about two days, i was just lazy over the week. that being said, sorry again and i hope you enjoyed it!


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Final Fantasy XIII, Romance